I lift and lower a shoulder. 揑 promised both.?
揑 won抰 hold you to it. I won抰 fight you on it.?
揑 don抰 want a divorce,?I repeat.
His eyes close for a minute before he shrinks the small gap between us. He cups my jaw and I抦 treated to a heady dose of d閖？vu. This feels like our first kiss.
The anticipation. The uncertainty. The possibility.
I grip the stiff fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
Crew brushes my hair back. Runs his thumb along my jaw. 揟his mess梚t抯 not about the money or the company or the scandal or my dad. It抯 about you. It抯 about being the guy that抯 good enough to stand next to you. You were worried I wouldn抰 see you as an equal梐s a partner? I抦 worried about the exact. Same. Thing.?
It抯 so vulnerable, saying I love you to someone you choose to love. Love toward my parents was obligatory, stemming from the biological fact that without them, I wouldn抰 exist and the opportunities their work allowed for. Love toward the baby I抦 carrying is instinctual. He or she is my child, a tiny piece of me, my responsibility to protect and adore.
None of that applies to Crew.
I love him because I want to. Because he challenges me and confides in me. Supports and softens me. I know the moment he enters the room and the second he leaves.
He sighs when I say nothing. 揑 know I抦 the one who barged in here and demanded to talk to you, but now I really do have to go. If it was just my dad, I抎 make him wait, but it抯 the whole board and most of the legal department. I抣l get home as early as I can tonight. Okay??
I keep holding his shirt. Stay silent.
His forehead wrinkles. 揜ed棓
揑 love you.?The words fall out of my mouth and hang between us.
And?Welp, there it is. I said it.
Awkward and unsure, I stare at Crew, waiting for him to react. Say something. Move. He抯 stunned; that much is obvious. Eyes wide. Lips parted, like he was about to say something that no longer applies.
He clears his throat.
揧ou don抰 have to say it back. It wasn抰， I didn抰， I棓
His fingers tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at him. He kisses me again, firm and warm and unyielding. It lingers on my lips with an invisible brand. Property of Crew Kensington. 揑 love you, Scarlett. So fucking much.?
揧ou do??To my embarrassment, my voice wavers. I genuinely wasn抰 sure if he did梔oes. It抯 part of why I hadn抰 said it until now. Not because I didn抰 want to show my cards, but because I didn抰 want him to feel like he had to.
His thumb swipes my cheek, caressing my face like it抯 something precious. 揧eah,?he replies softly. 揑 do.?
Crew is looking at me like I抦 all he抣l ever want. I let myself trust it. Cherish it. Believe it.
揙kay.?It comes out as a whisper.
揑抣l see you tonight.?He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, as unwilling to leave as I am to let him go.
Reluctantly, I nod.
He smiles. Shakes his head a little. Exhales. 揙kay.?Then he drops his hand and walks away toward the glass doors separating the lobby from the street. I can see Roman standing outside, waiting next to the car. Crew pauses to say something to his driver before he climbs in the backseat and out of sight.
I turn back toward the elevator with a smile on my face. This time, it arrives quickly. I抦 back in Haute抯 offices in a couple of minutes, with plenty of curious looks being aimed my way. Me running into the stairwell isn抰 a normal occurrence.
When I walk into my office, it takes a few moments of staring stupidly at my monitor before I remember I have work to do. I start shuffling through papers on my desk, trying to decide what to prioritize. I have to call Jeff back. A pink sticky note goes fluttering to the ground. I reach down to pick it up and freeze.
It抯 the note Crew wrote. But the side I抦 staring at is the sticky back. The side I didn抰 think anyone wrote on.
Crew did.
And by the way, I love you. That抯 what he wrote.
I stare at it for a minute, heart pounding. Then I pick up my phone and text him.
Scarlett: Who writes on the BACK of a sticky note???
Crew responds instantly. He must still be in the car.
Crew: I feel like that抯 a rhetorical question.
Crew: Don抰 feel bad I said it first.
Scarlett: You wrote it. Not the same thing.
Scarlett: I just saw it.
Crew: I figured that out halfway through our conversation, Red.
Scarlett: You were just going to drop the l-bomb and leave?!
Crew: Drop the l-bomb? How romantic.
Scarlett: Let me remind you the sentence started with 揳nd by the way.?Hardly Hallmark material.
Crew: I抣l work on it.
Crew: I抦 at the office.
Crew: I love you.
I smile like he can see me.